When We Lost Everything
by Catching Fireflies
Summary: The names have rang out across the Districts' town squares for years on reaping day. Twenty-three tributes die every year. The Capitol treats it like festivities and an excuse to celebrate the Hunger Games as the tributes die. This is a collection of poems and a couple of songfics about the Hunger Games trilogy and concepts of the series. Serious, funny, insightful, you name it!
1. Fading Away

**Author's Note:**

**Hey! This is my first attempt at a poetry fanfic. I will be updating every few days. This will include a few songfics. I hope you like it! Reviews would be appreciated, and I would also like some suggestions if you want me to do a poem about a particular character. There will be a lot of different types of poetry, sometimes rhyming and sometimes free verse. This poem is about a dying tribute and is rhyming, mostly, with some rather rough rhyming. Enjoy!**

_Fading Away_

This day is my last

My spirit has broken

My blood on the grass

No district token

Nothing to remember

From where I called home

Nothing's forever

Nothing to own

The Capitol owns me

My soul is theirs

The district's children kill me

Forgetting their fears

I remember the reaping

When they called my name

And goodbyes, and the weeping

Nothing the same

So I know that I'm dying

My heart is back home

But I'm still not crying

And I won't die alone.

**Hope you liked it! Like I said, if you have any suggestions, you can put it in a review or PM me if you like! Thanks for reading!**


	2. Paradise

**Author's Note:**

**This one's a songfic! It is about Rue (and in her POV): her life, and her death. The song I am using for this is Paradise by Coldplay. I do not own this song or the Hunger Games. All right, boring disclaimer ended. Thanks to Anarchy Girl for reviewing! The lyrics of this song are in italics.**

_Paradise_

I remember when I was an innocent little girl, six years old. Looking up at the sky, with the wisps of white clouds and birds. I tugged on my mother's sleeve, smiling a big gap-toothed smile. She looked so tired to me, her dark skin wrinkled, her black hair graying. I just wanted to cheer her up, back then. "Look, I found a four-leaf clover!" I said happily, holding out the clover with a grin.

She smiled wearily, nodding. "Make a wish, Rue," she said, ruffling my hair. My mother had said that for years: to make a wish on so many things, like rainbows and four-leaf clovers.

I remember that moment. "No more Hunger Games!" I said, grinning and jumping up and down around the room. "No more Capitol!"

Then my mother changed. "Shh!" she hissed, clapping a hand over my mouth. I started to cry. "Shh, Rue," she whispered. "Don't say that, okay? The Peacekeepers'll be hanging us all in the square for that." And I think that that was the moment that I went from an innocent little six-year-old to a girl who knew more than that. That the Capitol would kill us for a child's game. And my wish floated away on the wind, to somewhere out of Panem.

So all that I could do was fall asleep and dream of a place with no Hunger Games. No Capitol.

_When she was just a girl_

_She expected the world_

_But it flew away from her reach_

_So she ran away in her sleep_

_Dreamed of para- para- paradise_

_Para- para- paradise_

_Para- para- paradise_

_Every time she closed her eyes_

And I remember the night three weeks later. I was making chains out of the clovers in my backyard, singing to the mockingjays perched in the tree. They waited patiently, then sang back to me. I loved mockingjays, and I loved music. I tied the chain of clover flowers with long stems around my neck, twirling around the yard, my bare feet pounding the rich black earth, the grass swishing around my ankles. I was happy, but then I heard the screams.

I ran down the street, terrified, still barefoot and wearing my clover necklace. I stopped when I saw the man in the square. His shirt was torn off, and a whip was slicing down, hitting him over and over. It smelled like blood, and the man's blood spattered the ground. Many adults were watching. I ran up to the Peacekeeper who was whipping the poor man. "Stop!" I shrieked, grabbing his arm. "You're hurting him!"

The Peacekeeper looked at me with cold dark eyes. "Stupid little girl," he muttered, raising his whip again, but toward me. I started crying, and then someone ran out of the crowd. My mother.

While she yelled at the Peacekeeper, who gave her a grudging look and let her blame it on 'a simpleminded child's antics', I was crying. "Mommy, he's hurt," I sobbed as she carried me home. "They hurt the man."

"I know, sweet Rue," she said, taking a deep breath. "I know. Now let's go back home and see if we can get some dinner, all right, honey?" I nodded, but I knew that we wouldn't be able to. That I had barely escaped getting whipped. And when I looked down, my clover necklace was gone, ripped away.

As the years passed, I realized that I truly hated the Capitol. And every day became more painful.

_When she was just a girl_

_She expected the world_

_But it flew away from her reach_

_And bullets catch in her teeth_

_Life goes on_

_It gets so heavy_

_The wheel breaks the butterfly_

_Ever tear, a waterfall_

_In the night, the stormy night_

_She closed her eyes_

_In the night, the stormy night_

_Away she flies_

I knew that nothing was going to get better. Time passed. I took care of my family. And at night, I could fall asleep and go back to the magical world with no evil Capitol ruling over me.

_And dreamed of para- para- paradise_

_Para- para- paradise_

_Para- para- paradise_

_Whoa-oh-oh oh-ooh oh-oh-oh_

_She dreamed of para- para- paradise_

_Para- para- paradise_

_Para- para- paradise_

_Whoa-oh-oh oh-ooh oh-oh-oh_

But now, here I am, dying. Dying with a spear in my stomach and Katniss Everdeen singing a District Twelve lullaby to me that reminds me almost of home, where the mockingjays answered me. It hurts, but her voice numbs the pain, because I know that she is here. Here, as the world fades down to black and I hear the silence of the mockingjays as they listen to Katniss singing. It's all going to be over soon. No more pain. No more Capitol. No more Hunger Games. And it's going to be all right, because I won't be in pain anymore.

_La la la la_

_La la la la_

_La la la la la_

_Still lying underneath those stormy skies_

_She said oh-oh-oh-oh-oh_

_I know the sun must set to rise_

_This could be para- para- paradise_

_Para- para- paradise_

_Para- para- paradise_

_Whoa-oh-oh oh-ooh oh-oh-oh_

_This could be para- para- paradise_

_Para- para- paradise_

_Could be para- para- paradise_

_Whoa-oh-oh oh-ooh oh-oh-oh_

_This could be para- para- paradise_

_Para- para- paradise_

_Could be para- para- paradise_

_Whoa-oh-oh oh-ooh oh-oh-oh_

_Oo-oo-oo oo-oo-oo oo-oo-oo_

_Oo-oo-oo oo-oo-oo oo-oo-oo_

_Oo-oo-oo oo-oo-oo oo-oo-oo_

_Oo-oo-oo oo-oo-oo-oo_

And as I die, I hear the mockingjays call for me to come with them to heaven. To come with them to paradise.


	3. Only An Arrow

**Okay, I'm back with another chapter! This one is not a songfic like the last one. This is a poem about Cato's death. It is free verse, so it is not meant to rhyme at all. Thank you to everyone reading this, because I like to now that people enjoy my writing. Feel free to review or give suggestions. Thanks also to Anarchy Girl for the suggestions and the review!**

_Only An Arrow_

I tried to run

But nothing can outrun death

Not anyone

Not the nameless ones of the bloodbath

Not the girl whose fire caused her death when I saw it

Not the two killed by the tracker jackers

Not Marvel when Katniss shot him

Not Rue, who fell asleep and didn't wake up again

To Katniss's lullaby

And not Clove

Clove, my district partner

Who loved her knives almost as much as she was loyal to me

Who died with her skull broken

As I held my spear

And begged

"Stay with me Clove"

But she didn't stay

And nothing could save Thresh

Who I killed for killing Clove

And the girl from Five

Who ate deadly poison

But was clever to the end

And I'm next on this list

The list of dead tributes

The list of the ones that come home

We all come home, but we come home in a box

And now I'm dying

The mutts tearing at me

As I first moan

Then beg

Then just whimper

As the mutts eat me alive

Even with my body armor

They'll still get to me

I can barely see with the blood in my eyes

And Katniss and Peeta -damn them-

Are probably up there

Smiling at each other and saying that

Won't it be great when I die?

They say

They'll say that

I know that they want me dead

And I think that

After all of this

I want me dead too

Why won't they get it over with now?

They just want a show

Stupid Lover Boy

Stupid girl on fire

Stupid all of them for not caring

And now I'm just moaning for them to kill me

Kill me now

Just get it over with

Kill me

Katniss sees me

Hiding in the Cornucopia with the mutts

Eating me alive

And I'm nothing but a bloody mass of meat and snapped bones and blood

The remnants of a dying Career tribute

The remnants of what was almost victory

But my mouth forms the word when I see Katniss's arrow

"Please"

I say

She doesn't hear

Trying to find where my mouth is

"Please"

I say louder

And she hears me

And the one arrow

Only an arrow

Flies into my head

And I don't live long enough to hear the cannon fire

So now I'll be with the other dead tributes.


	4. Their Stories

**This is going to be a funny one! Me and my sister made up these limericks (if you don't know what limericks are, look it up) a long time ago since we're so obsessed with The Hunger Games, so big thanks to Anarchy Girl! Sorry if the first and second ones sound alike. And sorry if they don't make sense (Snow is actually thin... and Haymitch never really calls Katniss anything but sweetheart... but it rhymed!) Thank you to Anarchy Girl, Deity (guest) and I luv THGHP for reviewing! The next poem/chapter will be about Johanna and will not be this funny, but what's life without humor?**

_Their Stories_

KATNISS EVERDEEN

There once was a girl named Katniss

Her mentor had a lot of fatness

When she went outside

The people would hide

And this is the story of Katniss

HAYMITCH ABERNATHY

There once was a victor named Haymitch

He always called Katniss a bitch

When he went outside

It made Ripper hide

And this is the story of Haymitch

PRESIDENT SNOW

There once was a president named Snow

He was so fat the wind couldn't blow

His lips were so big

He could pass for a pig

And he always ran from the snow


	5. Out in the Rain

**Hi! As promised, this poem's about Johanna Mason. It is about her fear of water in Mockingjay (spoiler alert!). It's free verse, so it doesn't rhyme. Feel free to give suggestions for other characters' points of view. Oh, yeah, and the poem is supposed to be shaped like a tree (to symbolize that Johanna is from District Seven) kind of, so zoom out on your screen if you can to see it. Enjoy!**

_Out in the Rain_

The rain and the water

Dripping everywhere to torture me

Like Snow's laughing and saying with his bloody rose breath

"Oh my dear Miss Mason you need to learn what true torture really is"

Real pain while he sits there and laughs as I get electrocuted over and over

I'd get my ax but even my ax can't destroy all of this rain that pounds down and tortures me

Holy shit I could use some good morphling right now to drive the pain away and numb me and keep me happy

I remember the victor tributes from Six and Haymitch Abernathy and know how they felt since I'm going through it now

Pain so much pain that it kills me and I need morphling but Katniss doesn't have any at all for me to use

And I can't bear going out in the rain where Snow's face is reflected in every drop

And I can almost smell his damn roses and the blood on his rancid breath

I'm trembling and I can't go out there so Katniss has to persuade me

It's not working that well but I go anyway

And the rain hits my skin

And I want to scream

The pain of the torture

The memories like knives

At least back at home

You could sit in the shade

Of the tall trees and not get wet

Until they are cut down

Just like me I guess

Snow has cut me down

Like I'm just a tree

Like my district

And I don't think

That I can take this

If the sky won't stop raining down on me


	6. First It Was A Spark

**Hey! This chapter is another poem. It's about Finnick describing the start of the rebellion. It is a rhyming poem this time. Also, the next chapter will be a songfic about Haymitch, just to give a preview.**

_First It Was A Spark_

I remember that day

When I had to see Snow

He said, "I'll make you pay

Sell yourself, off you go."

Pain and hurt every night

So I start to dread the dark

For too many years I had no light

Until I found a spark

Watching the district children die

Seeing their blood on the ground

I should have called for help, a cry

But I couldn't make a sound

Then the Games was seventy-four

And I, every night a liar

I was nothing but a Capitol whore

Until the girl on fire

The nightlock berries in her hands

She almost died with Peeta at her side

And victor's trumpets sounding through the lands

So when it was over, a Gamemaker died

First it was a spark

Katniss Everdeen to blame

Fire dancing through the dark

To set the Capitol aflame

No more sleeping in someone's bed

I thought that it'd be well

No more dark thoughts in my head

Until the Quarter Quell


	7. Some Nights

**Here's my next songfic! It is of the song Some Nights by Fun. (which is an awesome song in my opinion!). I do not own Fun. or their song Some Nights. This one's about Haymitch and in his point of view in the trilogy. Like in my chapter Paradise, the lyrics of the songs are centered and in italics. Also, thanks to Anarchy Girl and Deity (guest) for the reviews! And sorry if I get any lyrics wrong, and sorry about Haymitch's imaginary friends and his 'relatives'****. I had to fit the song and the books at the same time. (You'll see what I mean.)**

_Some Nights_

I've gotten used to staying up at night. Sleeping during the day is like a rhythm now, waking up to sunset. I started out after the Games, still sleeping during the night like any sane person, but then the nightmares hit me so hard that I almost lost it. I gave up. And when the Games started up again, it was almost worse. Nothing that I did could get them out of the arena. That is, alive. Oh, they all made it out. They made it out in a wooden box marked with their name and district. Dead. I watched them all die. Nothing that I said, trying to get them sponsors, could help. So I gave up and drank myself into a haze.

_Some nights I stay up cashing in my bad luck_

_Some nights I call it a draw_

_Some nights I wish that my lips could build a castle_

_Some nights I wish they'd just fall off_

And it just gets worse when I think of Maysilee. My ally from the Quell. There was a part of me, under the arrogance and sarcasm, that looked out for her. She saved my life, after all. Whenever I have a nightmare, it usually involves her. And for a second when I wake up, it's like she's still there with me for one moment. Telling me, "Haymitch, what are you doing to yourself?" with a laugh. Then it all fades away. I know perfectly well that I'm killing myself very slowly with liquor, but what the hell? My life isn't worth very much as it is.

_But I still wake up, I still see your ghost_

_Oh, Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for, oh-oh-oh_

_What do I stand for?_

_What do I stand for?_

_Most nights, I don't know anymore_

_Oh, whoa, oh, whoa, oh, whoa, oh, oh_

_Oh, whoa, oh, whoa, oh, whoa, oh, oh_

The rebellion taunts me. I've hated the Capitol forever. I don't know why there hasn't been any rebellion sooner, why it only took a couple handfuls of poisonous berries to spark rebellion here in Panem. District Twelve still seems sheltered, in a way. No real rebellion, since we're the smallest district. I've tried telling Katniss that rebellion wouldn't be worth it here, since we're practically outnumbered by the Peacekeeping force, but she doesn't listen. Can't she see that I'm trying to save her life? But it doesn't matter, I guess. The Peacekeepers take us down every time.

_This is it, boys, this is war - what are we waiting for?_

_Why don't we break the rules already?_

_I was never one to believe the hype_

_Save that for the black and white_

_I try twice as hard and I'm half as liked_

_But here they come again to jack my style_

These days, I have to imagine Maysilee. Or my old girlfriend, the one that the Capitol killed because of me messing around with the force field. I play a stupid game, one that I made up when I was really drunk. I pretend that Maysilee's sleeping next to me, and that we're both young again. My nightmares aren't as bad as usual if she's around. But then I start to forget who I am: Haymitch the drunk victor, or Haymitch the tribute with a district partner for an ally. Who am I, anyway?

_That's all right (That's all right)_

_I found a martyr in my bed tonight_

_She stops my bones from wandering just who I am, who I am, who I am_

_Oh, who am I? Mmm... Mmm_

Sometimes I think that the rebellion won't work, just because I am so alone. When you're as lonely as I am, the idea of failure settles into your head pretty fast. I wish that there would be no Capitol, and most importantly, no Hunger Games. Never. Either way, I need something, someone to get me through life so I don't drink myself to death. Sometimes I just wonder about Maysilee, if she'd have won with me if I was offered the same kind of deal that went on in the 74th Hunger Games, only not with the 'only-one-victor' part at the end. Would she have still been my ally? Or more than that? Or would she have just forgotten about it? And there are times that I like best, when I've got a lot of liquor and I drink it all, and I can numb myself against anything. The victor forever.

_Well, some nights I wish that this all would end_

_'Cause I could use some friends for a change_

_And some nights I'm scared you'll forget me again_

_Some nights I always win (I always win)_

_But I still wake up, I still see your ghost_

_Oh, Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for oh-oh-oh_

_What do I stand for?_

_What do I stand for?_

_Most nights, I don't know... (oh, come on)_

Sometimes I think that it wasn't worth it, to win the Hunger Games. Maybe I should have never used the force field as a weapon. Maybe I should have just let myself die, bleed to death with my intestines spilled all over the ground. Because I got my mother, brother, and girlfriend killed just for defying the Capitol. Sometimes I think that maybe it's all a cruel dream, made up to torture me, but I always wake up to the stars in the sky and know that it's all real. After all, in nightmares, I always wake up right when I die. Or when the pain becomes too much.

If this was a dream, I would have woken up long ago.

_So this is it. I sold my soul for this?_

_Washed my hands in that for this?_

_I miss my mom and dad for this?_

_(Come on...)_

_No. When I see stars, when I see, when I see stars, that's all they are_

_When I hear songs, they sound like the swan, so come on_

_Oh, come on. Oh, come on. Oh, come on!_

Now, locked up in District Thirteen, I've had enough. I am sick of sobriety. Actually, it's killing me. The people here in Thirteen don't understand. _They've_ never had to give up their children for the Hunger Games. They've never had to deal with what I'm going through. I've only been flat-out sober for minutes, and it's already hell. I think I'm going to wither and shrivel and die in this tiny room. All alone. I knew as soon as the Capitol killed the last people who I love that I would die alone. And I hate it.

But now I've got Katniss to live for. Maybe Peeta, but especially her. Even though the Games are over for now, I am still her mentor. I am still the one who got the starving girl from the Seam who volunteered for her little sister rich sponsors. I am still the one who couldn't even think about the idea of her dying. And now... she's insane, from what I've heard. No, 'mentally disoriented'. That's what _they_ call it. The bastards of District Thirteen that I hate for sentencing me to sobriety forever. And they want to make Katniss the Mockingjay. And I miss Peeta, no matter what I'm trying to tell myself. I miss looking into those big blue eyes and feeling safe for a second. They were like family to me. But maybe the Games can end forever now.

_Well, that is it, guys, that is all, five minutes in and I'm bored again_

_Ten years of this, I'm not sure if anybody understands_

_This one is not for the folks at home_

_I'm sorry to leave, mom, I had to go_

_Who the fuck want to die alone all dried up in the desert sun?_

_My heart's breaking for my sister and the con that she call love_

_When I look into my nephew's eyes_

_Man, you won't believe the most amazing things that can come from_

_Some terrible nights... ahh..._

I know that Katniss is far away by now, in the Capitol. But we're going to win. I know it. Maybe it's just a dream, but I love it, and I wish I could tell her how I feel -even tell Maysilee, if she was alive-, but's she's too far away. But I feel like if I say how I feel to anyone, all my hopes that I have left will disappear.

So maybe it's better this way, that they never will know.

At least, the living will never know. Because when I get drunk, I tell Maysilee everything. And she understands.

_Oh, whoa, oh, whoa, oh, whoa, oh-oh_

_Oh, whoa, oh, whoa, oh, whoa, oh-oh_

_The other night you wouldn't believe the dream I just had about you and me_

_I called you up and we both agree_

_It's for the best you didn't listen_

_It's for the best we get our distance... oh..._

_It's for the best you didn't listen_

_It's for the best we get our distance, oh..._

**Author's Note, again:**

**That was a very fun chapter to write! No pun intended. (If you don't get that first sentence, remember who this song is by...)**


	8. So I Die

**Hey! Anyone like my Some Nights chapter? (Haymitch is my favorite character, and Some Nights is one of my favorite songs, so that's what my mind created!) This one's more serious. It is a free verse poem of Prim's death, and it is in her point of view. Just because I felt like it. If you have any suggestions, feel free to suggest. If you like, tell me what you think! Enjoy the poem!**

_Flying Away_

The parachutes fall

Falling

Silver through the air

Then they all explode

With screams and screams and

Blood everywhere

Too much

Like scarlet rain pouring down on the Capitol's children

But was this the rebels?

Or was it the Capitol?

Who will ever know?

But I hate whoever did it now

All the children crying

Some were lucky enough to die

Right away

But others are missing limbs

Screaming for their families

And I can't help them

I can't save them

The white uniforms of the Peacekeepers mix

With our white uniforms

The white of the rebel medics

Coming to help our enemies

I pull off my white coat

Covering up a little girl who's wailing for her mother

My braid is tangled

And I feel that my shirt forms the duck tail

That Katniss used to tease me about

_Katnis_s

Katniss

I hear her voice

Am I imagining it?

But no, I hear her

Now I see her

Pushing through the crowd

Shouting my name

_Prim Prim Prim Prim PRIM!_

And she's almost to the barricades

Almost to me

And I look up

And my lips form her name

"Katniss..."

So I die with my sister's name lingering on my lips.


	9. Finishing The Sentence

**Hi! This one's a free verse poem about Wiress and Beetee in the third Quarter Quell. It is in Beetee's POV. Hope you like it, although it's short. Feel free to share your thoughts. And thanks to Guest for reviewing the last chapter!**

_Finishing the Sentence_

I think I've spent all my victor years with Wiress

Finishing her sentences

When she knows what to say

But never says it

And it's like I can read her mind

But I should have read it faster this time

Fast enough to save her

Fast enough to hear her cry out in her mind

_Help_

_Someone help_

_They're here_

But I wasn't quick enough

So here we are

And here is Wiress

With a slit throat

And I stay calm on the outside

But on the inside I'm thinking

_No more finishing the sentence_


	10. Stabs of Acid

**Hey! This one's in Mags's point of view, in Catching Fire. It's a free verse poem about her going into the fog. By the way, I really need some inspiration, so feel free to tell me if you've got any ideas. Thanks for sticking with reading this!**

_Stabs of Acid_

They hit me like

Stabs of acid

Katniss and Finnick and Peeta

All unable to carry me

Because I can't make it

But I know that I have to die

To save Peeta

To let the rest die

So Peeta can live this time

So I walk into the fog

Kissing Finnick lightly

And watch for a second before it hits

And then I'm caught up in a horrible dance of pain

And maybe my cannon fires

But I don't live to hear it.


	11. Deep in the Meadow

**Hey people! Sorry that I haven't updated for a really long time, considering that I first planned to update every two days. I've had some problems with writer's block But yesterday was my last day of school, so I may update sooner. This one's a rhyming poem about what Katniss's mother thinks when Prim dies. And yes, I am quite aware that 'control' and 'window' don't rhyme. I'm trying my best here. ;)**

_Deep in the Meadow_

They say that she's gone

Blown to bits by the bombs

So maybe she's gone

But I wish they were wrong

And Katniss just lost it

Just lost all control

She had life for a little, then tossed it

Out her fucking window

I wish I could sing Prim one last song

But now my little girl's dead though

I wish life hadn't just said, "So long"

But now she's deep in the meadow


	12. Slag Heaps- No I'm Not!

**Guess what? CATCHING FIREFLIES IS BACK! I had major writer's block for this story, and I'm really sorry for that. But here's a hopefully humorous little free verse poem (with 'sound effects' that I added in to make it funnier) about Cray, former Head Peacekeeper of District Twelve. If you don't like stories with prostitution or mentions of rape, you might want to skip this chapter. And yes, I do have a dirty mind, before you ask. And I know that this is different from my other stuff, but don't worry.**

**Tell me if you like it!**

_Slag Heaps- No I'm Not!_

Here I am at the slag heaps-

Wait, no I'm not!

I'm sitting around in my house

Being lazy and eating wild turkeys by the dozen

("Yum yum!")

And speaking of "Yum yum"

I wonder if any Seam ladies are willing

To sleep with me tonight

But sometimes I'm not willing to give up my precious money

Because I'm EVER so poor

"He makes 100 bucks a day... um, Cray's not poor!"

Looking in the mirror

At my bright red fat face

And the big belly from too much of Ripper's best liquor from the Hob

And my, like, TWO strands of hair that are left

Aren't I beautiful?

* * *

Anyway, better go to the Seam!

Hope there's some young girls that are out late

So I can chuck them on the bed

And make them scream! ("AHHHHHH!")

* * *

Ah well

So is the life of Cray the Peacecreeper

("Oh, I meant Peacekeeper!")

* * *

You know why I never hold public whippings, like that bastard Thread?

Because I hold PRIVATE whippings in my house! (*thwack* "OW!")


	13. Hide and Seek

**Hey! Everyone, I'm going on vacation for like 10 days or so, so I'm not going to be updating as much. Just to let you know if you read my stories, especially besides this one. This is another poem -FINALLY one that rhymes- about little kids in the outer districts learning about the Games. Just an idea that I had. Tell me if you like it!**

_Hide and Seek_

One day at a reaping in District 10

Among the women and the men

Stood a very little girl

Among the dust and dirt, she was a pearl

Innocent and young as the first day of spring

But then her mother heard her asking

"Why do all the kids go away?"

Asked the girl to her mom's dismay

"The Capitol takes them, and they play games"

Said her mother, waiting to hear the names

Of the poor reaped children of that year

Then the girl asked, "Mommy, what's a Career?"

"They're mean people from a richer place"

Said her mother, forcing a smile to her face

But the curious little girl wasn't done

"Mommy, do they play games where they run?

Or do they play hide and seek?"

And her mother kissed her cheek

"Of course, my darling, what else would they do?"

Said her mother, though it wasn't true


End file.
